


Slughorn's Party

by elrosia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrosia/pseuds/elrosia
Summary: What might have happened if Ron had gone with Hermione to Slughorn's Christmas party.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

* * *

 

Ron slowly descended the steps from his dormitory into the Gryffindor common room. Palms sweating, he rubbed them hastily against his dress robes before running his hands through his hair. He had just spent nearly an hour in the mirror of the boys’ shared bathroom, picking apart his appearance, obsessing over every freckle, every hair. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was just Hermione. He had spent countless hours with her before. It was nothing to get worked up about.

Except this was different. This was a…well, a sort of date. She had asked him to go with her to Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party. She could have asked anyone, but she had asked him. _Probably asked me out of pity_ , a voice in his head told him. He tried to quiet that part of his mind, but it continued. _I’m sure she only meant us to go as friends_.

His heart sped up as he reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped into the common room. Looking around, he saw several students milling about, but no Hermione in sight. He felt his anxiety momentarily ebb now that he didn’t have to face her right away, before immediately rising once more as new worries presented themselves. What if she didn’t mean to ask him at all? What if it was all just some big joke? _Did I hear her right?_ he asked himself, glancing at the clock on the wall. He thought she had said to meet at eight. _Were we supposed to meet there?_ he wondered. No, he was sure he didn’t misunderstand. Eight o’clock in the common room. He settled himself on a couch near the fireplace. Watching the second hand tick by on the clock, he tried to block out his anxious thoughts.

He was staring so hard he didn’t notice that Hermione had joined him until she spoke up, “Hello, Ron.”

He started, looking up at her as she stood beside him. He was about to respond when he noticed what she was wearing, his jaw dropping as he took in the ensemble. She was clothed in a pale pink gown that hugged her curves, flaring out in the skirt, the low-cut neckline accentuating her bust. A blush spread over her face as he stared. She cleared her throat and he suddenly recollected himself.

“Oh, er, sorry,” he said as he stood, “I mean— you look nice, Hermione.”

The color in her cheeks deepened as she mumbled her thanks. “So do you,” she told him as she eyed his dress robes.

Ron stood a bit straighter, ears turning red. “Er, shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the portrait hole.

She nodded her assent and followed him to the exit. Ron pushed open the portrait, then stood aside for Hermione, offering his hand to help her through. He felt his pulse speed up as she took it, her palm resting briefly against his own. Then he followed her through and the portrait swung shut behind them as they proceeded down the corridor.

The walk to Professor Slughorn’s office, where the party was being held, seemed to stretch on for hours. The castle had never seemed so large before, the hallways never quite so long. And silent. The sound of their footsteps rang out against the stone floor. Each breath he took seemed amplified in the silence. He tried to quiet his breathing, while his heart beat so loudly in his chest that he wondered if she could hear it.

He suddenly found he could think of nothing to say to her. Hermione. The girl he’d known since he was eleven. He’d spent years in her company, sitting beside her in classrooms, eating with her in the Great Hall, copying notes from her in the library, relaxing by the fire in the common room, going for walks down by the lake, and of course, risking their lives during their many adventures. Not once in all this time had he found himself at a loss for something to say. Yet somehow, tonight, his mind was a blank. 

He cleared his throat, tugging at a sleeve of his robes. He was starting to outgrow them already. Shifting his gaze over to Hermione, he found her eyes on him and quickly looked away again. He could feel his pulse racing, heart in his throat. _What is wrong with you?_ he demanded of his overwrought brain. _Just act normal_ , he told himself.

“Er, so,” he began just as Hermione started to ask, “Do you—”

They both immediately turned red, mumbling apologies. “Go ahead,” he told her.

“No, what were you going to say?” she asked politely.

“Well, I – er..” he cleared his throat again, stalling. What was he going to say? His mind went into overdrive, scrambling for something, anything to say to her. “Erm, read any good books lately?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could somehow recall them. _What are you on about?_ he berated himself, groaning inwardly.

Hermione snorted. He risked a glance at her and saw the amusement shining in her eyes. Suddenly this all seemed so ridiculous. As he watched the smile on Hermione’s face grow, he felt the mirth rising up in him like a bubble. Unable to contain it, it flowed over his lips, enveloping them both as they were each overcome by a fit of laughter.

He felt the tension drain from him, the wall between them dissolving as their laughter subsided. He could do this, he thought. Nothing had changed. This was still Hermione. He looked over at her and saw her smiling up at him. His heart skipped a beat, a warmth rising up in him as he took in her bright eyes and glowing face, cheeks still tinged pink from laughter. Well, maybe something had changed.

His fingers brushed inadvertently against hers as they walked. His first instinct was to withdraw, but feeling suddenly emboldened, Ron moved impulsively, grasping for her hand. Her eyes widened slightly, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she didn’t pull away. Surprised by his own boldness, Ron averted his eyes, ears turning red as he studied the floor in front of their feet. The warmth of her palm sent a tingling sensation all the way up his arm and into his chest. The tension returned, but it was a different kind of tension this time. It was not altogether unpleasant. He found he didn’t mind it at all.

He kept sneaking glances at her as they walked, until their eyes met, causing the breath to catch in his throat. After that he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to risk being caught staring. As they neared the corridor leading to Slughorn’s study, he felt a soft movement against his palm as Hermione shifted her fingers, lacing them between his. His throat went dry as he felt her tiny fingers sliding through his, her small hand curling around his much larger one.

As they pushed through the door into the party, Ron inexplicably felt both nervous and proud at the realization that everyone was going to see them holding hands. Hermione, he thought, holding _my_ hand. There could be no doubt now that this was, in fact, a date. Everyone who saw them would know. As they walked through the doorway, several eyes turning towards them as they entered the room together. He held his breath, chest tightening as they underwent the scrutiny of their classmates.

Then the eyes moved away and he found he could breathe normally again. He almost sighed with relief. They had done it. They were here. At the party. Together.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

Ron glanced down at Hermione and found she was looking up at him expectantly. “Erm, do you—” he mumbled, his eyes roaming the room wildly as he wondered, what now? Then he spotted the refreshments. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked finally.

  
“Sure,” Hermione said, smiling shyly.

  
He felt suddenly awkward as he looked down at their entwined fingers, not knowing whether he should let her go in order to fetch her a drink, or to bring her with him. His dilemma was solved as Hermione loosened her grip, gently sliding her hand from his.

  
Ron pushed through the crowd, taking deep breaths as he tried to shake off his nerves. He wondered what the odds were that they were serving anything stronger than butterbeer. Tracking down one of the elves bearing a tray of refreshments, he eyed the drinks warily. The goblets were filled with a reddish-purple liquid and seemed to be smoking slightly. Picking one up off the tray, he sipped at it, then downed it quickly. It was delicious, though it left a slight burning sensation in the back of his throat. Placing the empty glass back onto the tray, he picked up two more and mumbled his thanks to the elf before moving away.

  
Scanning the room for Hermione, he realized she wasn’t where he had left her. He found her, unsurprisingly, in front of the only bookcase in the room, hands clasped behind her as she leaned over, perusing the titles. “Hermione,” Ron said as he approached, “you’re the only person I know who would go to a party to read.”

  
She blushed as she looked up at him and Ron couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked with so much color in her cheeks. “I was just looking,” she told him as she spun around to face him. Taking the drink he offered, she sipped it as her eyes bounced around the room, looking at everyone but him.

  
He cleared his throat and busied himself with his own drink. As his gaze wandered, he suddenly spotted a familiar head of messy, black hair. “Hey, it’s Harry,” he said, nudging Hermione and gesturing with his glass, “Let’s go say hello.”

  
They weaved their way through the crowded room until they made it over to where Harry was standing in conversation with Luna.

  
“Hello, Ronald,” Luna greeted as he approached.

  
“Hey, Luna,” he said. Nodding to Harry, he received a grin in return.

  
Hermione stepped up to his side and exchanged similar greetings before they all lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence. Harry seemed to be trying not to look at the pair of them standing together, while Luna studied them with an unabashedly open gaze.

  
After a minute, Luna spoke, addressing Ron, “So, have you finally told her how you feel?”

  
Ron nearly choked on his drink. Sputtering a bit, he tried to speak but his response was mostly unintelligible, “Er—wha—I’m…”

  
Luna’s expression took on a pitying quality, “Oh, I suppose not, then.” Then she gave him a serene smile and turned her attention to the sprigs of holly and mistletoe strung up throughout the room. “I hope they aren’t infested with nargles.”

  
Ron said nothing, his gaze now firmly fixed on the faded red carpet, cheeks flushed a similar color.

  
“They aren’t,” came Hermione’s cold reply, “as there is no such thing.”

  
Luna made no reply, seeming not to even hear as she continued gazing upwards. Ron’s mouth twitched in amusement, despite his lingering embarrassment, and he snuck a glance at Hermione. Her face looked pale as she continued, her voice sounding a bit more strained than it normally did, “So, Harry, did you finish your essay for Transfiguration yet?”

  
Ron had never been happier to hear about homework before, so grateful was he for the change in subject. He looked at Harry, who seemed a little caught off guard. “Erm—well…almost,” Harry said, adjusting his glasses.

  
“Harry, my boy!” a loud voice suddenly boomed, startling all but Luna, as a hand landed on Harry’s shoulder. Professor Slughorn appeared, turning Harry away from the group as he engaged him in conversation.

  
Seeing an opportunity to flee an uncomfortable situation, Ron glanced over at Hermione. With a tilt of his head and a quirk of his eyebrows, he asked her a silent question. She nodded, and they quietly slipped away.

  
Spotting a small unoccupied sofa in a relatively quiet corner, Ron made his way towards it, Hermione right behind him. When he reached it, he turned towards her, gesturing to the seat, “Do you want to…?”

  
She nodded, giving him a small smile as she sat down. Looking down at her, he felt suddenly hot, a sweat breaking out on his neck. Nervously, he wondered where he should sit. How close was too close? He didn’t want to seem too forward. Maybe she wanted her space. But what if he gave her too much space and she got the wrong idea?

  
“Ron?” her voice broke him from his reverie. He realized he’d been staring.

  
“Uh, yeah?” he mumbled.

  
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

  
He swallowed, closed his eyes, and plopped down beside her on the couch.

  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ron watching the other people at the party mingle and dance. He kept sneaking looks at Hermione every so often, until she caught him at it. He gave her a nervous smile, which she returned, then looked away again. Say something, he told himself, but words failed him. Turning his gaze down to his now empty cup, he felt he could use a shot of Firewhiskey right about now. That’s it, he thought.

  
“Erm,” Ron cleared his throat. Hermione looked up at him expectantly. “Would you like another drink?” he asked.

  
Her noticed her face fell slightly, before she smiled and handed him her glass. “Thank you,” she said as he took it.

  
Walking away from her, he tried to get his nerves under control. I’m making a complete mess of this, he thought glumly. Turning to look over his shoulder, he thought he saw her watching him, but she quickly averted her gaze. He figured she was probably wondering why she chose to come with him at all. She must be having a terrible time.

  
Tracking down an elf with a tray, he swapped their two empty goblets for full ones and headed back to the corner of the room where Hermione waited. But, as he drew near, he saw someone had taken his spot beside her. He stopped short several feet away, eyes narrowing as he realized who it was. Cormac McLaggen.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

Ron felt his heartrate speed up and his blood begin to boil. His stomach twisted as he realized Cormac certainly felt no qualms about sitting too close. He was practically in her lap. Ron felt a pang of jealously and betrayal before he noticed the look on Hermione’s face.   
Her cheeks were pink, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn in what Ron recognized as her look of indignation. It was the same look she would get when he made fun of S.P.E.W. or suggested she break a school rule. He secretly liked it, though he would never admit that to her. Part of the fun in goading her was the passionate glint she would get in her eyes as she focused her gaze on him. Frightening but sexy.   
In this context, however, it simply made him outraged. Especially when he saw her leaning against the armrest of the sofa, straining to put some space between them. Ron snapped out of his stupor, marching up to them as he demanded of Cormac, “What are you doing?”  
Cormac glanced up at Ron before looking away dismissively. “Oh, hey, Weasley,” he said lazily, “we were just having a conversation.” He looked back up at him pointedly. “A private conversation, if you know what I mean,” he added, winking.   
Hermione let out a noise of disgust while Ron pulled his wand on Cormac, aiming it at his throat. “Get lost, McLaggen,” he said through gritted teeth.   
Cormac’s face turned instantly red, twisting into an ugly scowl. He stood and stepped toward Ron, puffing his chest out as a means of intimidation. But, Ron had a couple of inches on Cormac, and merely looked down his nose at him, wand still poised to attack.   
“Don’t tell me she came here with you,” he mocked with a mirthless laugh.   
The insinuation stung, prodding at his own insecurities as he still wasn’t quite sure why she had asked him to come with her at all. His eyes flitted involuntarily toward Hermione, who was watching the scene unfold before her, brows knitted in concern. Turning his attention back to Cormac, Ron steeled his gaze. “As a matter of fact—” he began, but Cormac cut him off.   
“It’s not as though you were going to make a move,” Cormac sneered. “You haven’t got it in you.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s fair game as far as I can see.”  
Ron dropped his wand, opting to use his bare hands instead as he pulled his arm back and swung, his fist landing with a satisfying crunch against Cormac’s face.   
“Ron!” he heard Hermione’s shout, but kept his eyes fixed on Cormac.   
“What the hell, Weasley?” Cormac sputtered as his hands flew to his face, a stream of blood leaking from his nose.   
Ron picked up his wand again. “I told you to get lost,” he growled.  
Cormac shot him one last scathing look before stomping off through the crowd.   
Now that the adrenaline in his system was starting to wind down, Ron noticed some students nearby watching with wide eyes and whispering to each other. He looked down at Hermione uneasily. Her cheeks were red, her mouth slightly ajar as she looked at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes.   
“Erm,” he mumbled, not quite meeting her eye, “maybe we should get out of here.” He glanced over at the group of whispering students, then down at the ground where he noticed the two overturned goblets. He must have dropped them without realizing. Sheepishly, he picked them up and set them on a nearby table. Muttering a quick cleansing charm for the carpet, he waved his wand before stashing it back in his pocket.   
Silently, Hermione stood. He took this as an agreement to leave and started to lead the way out of the party. As he pushed through the crowd of milling students, he realized how badly he’d screwed things up. Maybe I shouldn’t have overreacted, he thought as his hand throbbed painfully. He flexed his fingers. This is not how I wanted this night to go.  
He pushed open the door and held it back, waiting for Hermione to pass through as he stared at the ground dejectedly. As she moved past, she paused beside him. He watched her feet in confusion, wondering why she’d stopped. Then, he felt a soft hand fit itself into his. Swallowing, he looked up quickly, searching her eyes. She said nothing, but only turned and began walking again. He let the door fall shut behind him as she gently tugged him forward.   
Their footsteps echoed against the stone as they walked side by side down the long corridor. Ron’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was a residual effect of the confrontation he’d just had or if it was caused by the feel of Hermione’s soft palm against his own. This in itself was a puzzle. Wasn’t she mad at him?   
“I—I’m sorry, Hermione,” he blurted suddenly.   
Her footsteps slowed as she looked up at him. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said.


	4. Chapter 4

He felt his face grow hot as she stared at him. He knew she was mad. “I know,” he said, apologizing again. “I completely ruined the party. I just—” he stopped midsentence. He didn’t really know what had come over him. He just couldn’t stand the sight of Cormac McLaggen sitting so close to Hermione. He tried to come up with a reason that could justify his behavior, but he couldn’t think of any excuse that she would accept. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this one. He had been looking forward to this party for weeks, hoping it would give him an opportunity to—  
To what? Make a move? He scoffed at himself. Cormac was right. He really didn’t have it in him. And to top it all off, Hermione would now probably be mad at him for days. Except…  
His eyes fell on their still entwined hands, a curious expression on his face.   
Hermione stopped walking, causing Ron to stop beside her. “You didn’t ruin anything,” she said quietly.   
He drew his gaze from their hands to her face, searching it furtively as though looking for clues. “No?” he asked hesitatingly.   
She shook her head, lips pressed together, eyes dark under her lashes as she looked up at him. He noticed a flush begin to color her cheeks but could not think why. Still, she didn’t seem angry and he felt a sense of relief flood through him.   
“Brilliant,” he said, his face relaxing into a lopsided smile. She continued to gaze at him with that same unfathomable expression on her face and after a moment he cleared his throat. “So, erm,” he said, “I reckon we should head back to the common room?”   
He was sure he saw a flash of disappointment cross her features before her face cleared again and she smiled and nodded to him. He also noticed she slid her hand from his as they turned to continue their walk.   
Maybe she really was mad? He sighed in frustration. Why were girls so bloody complicated? He wished she would just shout at him like she normally did when she was upset. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was behaving so strangely tonight. He knew Hermione very well and he fully expected to have a row over the scene he had just caused. Or at the very least, to be lectured all the way back to the common room. But she wasn’t acting at all like her usual self tonight. That’s what was throwing him off.   
By the time they climbed another staircase and turned a corner, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Hermione,” he stopped her with a hand on her arm.   
“Yes?” She turned to him with a curious expression on her face.  
“Are you angry with me?” he asked.   
She looked surprised. “No…” she said, drawing out the word. “Why would I be angry with you?”  
“Well, I just thought—” he paused and reconsidered. He didn’t want to give her any ideas. “No reason,” he said finally. “Was just wondering.”  
She quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t challenge him further.   
They continued walking, but as they approached Gryffindor tower, it suddenly struck Ron as the last place he wanted to be. He imagined stepping through the portrait hole, everyone seeing how soon they had returned. They would know how badly this date had gone. His stomach twisted. He didn’t want the night to end yet. He didn’t think he would get another chance at this. Not with Hermione.   
“Hermione,” he stopped her again.  
This time she looked more confused than curious, crossing her arms before her chest as she turned to him. “Yes, Ronald?”  
“Erm,” he said, stalling. “Do you…” his eyes roamed the hallway, as though the stone walls and high ceilings would give him some sudden inspiration. His gaze fell on a portrait of a dotty looking witch staring into a telescope. It gave him an idea. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked quickly.   
She stared at him as if he’d grown three heads. “We have been walking,” she said slowly.   
“I mean, yes, but—well,” he stammered, feeling like an idiot, “it’s still early and I thought maybe—"  
“Yes,” she said suddenly, cutting him off.   
“Really?” he asked, ears turning red. “Great. I mean—okay,” he said, rubbing his neck as he tried and failed to keep the foolish grin off his face. Hermione seemed to be having a similar struggle, for though she had her head bent towards the ground, Ron could still see the smile lighting her features from behind the curtain of her hair. It gave him a fluttering feeling in his stomach.   
They turned around and started walking back the way they had come.


	5. Chapter 5

As Ron led the way through the twisting corridors of the castle, Hermione began to chatter about the lessons they’d had that week and the homework assignments that would be due soon. It was not Ron’s favorite subject and under normal circumstances he would probably have complained. But as it was an improvement on the awkward silences they’d been suffering through for much of the night, he let her prattle on, even throwing in an encouraging comment or two.   
When they reached the door to the Astronomy tower, he hesitated. “Do you want to go up?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual, as though the idea had just occurred to him.  
“Sure,” she said, looking about as casual as he felt.   
They proceeded up the winding stairwell to the top of the tower. Stepping out onto the roof, Ron felt the chill of the night air hit him. As they approached the turrets, he looked over at Hermione and saw her shiver. Shaking his head at himself, he realized that he really didn’t think this through. He slid his outer robe off his shoulders, approaching Hermione where she stood leaning against the wall and looking out over the grounds. Wordlessly, he draped the robe over her shoulders and noticed that she gave a little start.   
“Sorry,” he said as she looked up at him over her shoulder, “I forgot how cold it would be out here.”  
Tugging the robes more snugly around her, she turned to him, smiling softly. “Thank you, Ron,” she said quietly. Her eyes were locked onto his, studying him as though he was a new spell she had discovered and was trying to puzzle out.   
He felt the heat rising to his face under her gaze. Swallowing, he stepped up beside her, resting his arms on the edge of the wall. He was relieved when she turned back to look down over the grounds once more.   
For a little while, they merely stood like that, side by side, looking out into the darkness. The only sounds were the shushing of the wind, the rustle of leaves, and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance.   
Ron kept sneaking glances at Hermione. He felt a tension in the space between them, as though the air itself was charged with electricity. He was aware of every shift, every movement of her body. Every sigh of her breath set his nerves on edge. He swallowed, throat dry as his mind searched frantically for something to say. But all was a blank. All he could think about was the way her hair lifted and danced in the breeze, the sweet scent of her skin, the profile of her face, nose lilting up at the end, the sharp point of her chin, the fullness of her lips.   
It was Hermione who finally broke the silence. Ron noticed the movement of her mouth before he registered the words she spoke. “It’s a beautiful night,” she said quietly. As she spoke, her eyes turned upward towards him. Caught in her gaze, he suddenly found himself helpless. He was frightened by her look, by the feelings it brought up in him, but he could not bring himself to look away.   
That is, until her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his eyes were drawn by the movement. “Ron?” she asked hesitantly.   
He did not wait for her to finish her question. Without even realizing what he was doing, he found himself moving toward her, head bending low, until his mouth was pressed against hers. He heard a low groan and realized it had issued from his own throat. Before he even had time to be embarrassed, she responded with a soft moan that thrilled him to his core.   
Ron pulled away slightly, eyes searching hers. Seeing his own desire mirrored there, his mouth immediately found hers again. He felt her hands grasp at his shoulders, her arms wrap around his neck. He pulled her closer to him, arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet as he pressed her body into his.   
The silence enveloped them once more, but this time, neither of them noticed as they were both lost in a world of their own. To Ron, the outer world no longer existed. There was only Hermione. Her lips, her breath, her smooth skin as his mouth traveled over the expanse of her cheek, the softness of her hair as his fingers tangled in her curls, the sweet perfume he inhaled as his lips found the curve of her neck.   
Time likewise had ceased to exist for them, and Ron had no idea how long they had been out there, wrapped in each other’s arms, when a sudden noise brought reality crashing back over them. It was the sound of a heavy wooden door clanking shut.


	6. Chapter 6

Ron and Hermione pulled away from each other abruptly, both turning toward the source of the sound. There stood on the balcony a couple of students. The girl Ron didn’t remember seeing before, but he vaguely recognized the boy as a seventh year Ravenclaw.   
“Sorry, mate,” said the Ravenclaw with a grin, “didn’t realize the tower was occupied.”   
The girl blushed and half hid herself behind her friend.   
Hermione busied herself with smoothing down her unruly hair while Ron’s ears turned a bright scarlet. “N-no, we were just, erm—” he stuttered, trying to ignore the sheer awkwardness of the situation.   
“Talking,” Hermione’s voice rang out sudden and clear. “We were just talking,” she clarified, “but we’re leaving now.”   
Ron felt himself pulled forward as she grabbed his arm and marched him towards the door. The Ravenclaw gave him a wink as he passed by and Ron couldn’t help the glow of pride he felt beneath his overall embarrassment.   
As he followed Hermione down the winding stone staircase, the reality of what just happened began to sink in. He’d just kissed her. Hermione! He had kissed her, and she’d actually kissed him back! He had imagined it countless times, but never had he dared to believe that it could really happen.  
He felt a cloud of euphoria settle over him, accompanied by a nervous energy that buzzed through his veins and set his stomach squirming. What did it all mean? Did this change everything? Did he want it to? Did she?  
These thoughts swirled through his mind as he watched her trip lightly down the stairs, her frizzy curls trailing out behind her. Suddenly she shot him a look over her shoulder, her eyes catching his for a moment, sending a bolt like lightning straight to his chest. Then she turned forward once more and just as quickly, the clamoring questions in his mind dissipated like a mist and he was left with just one thought. Yes.   
Yes, this would change everything and, even more certainly, yes, he wanted it to.   
Filled with a new determination, Ron now eagerly pressed forward. Taking the steps two at a time, he easily overtook Hermione and quickly slipped past her to the bottom of the tower. When she caught up with him, he was smiling crookedly, his back pressed against the door, holding it open for her to pass through.   
As she moved past him, she hesitated momentarily, pausing to look up at him before proceeding through the doorway. Before she could exit the tower, however, she felt a hand on her arm, halting her and pulling her back. She gasped as Ron’s arms encircled her waist, but the sound was abruptly cut off as Ron’s lips descended on hers.   
When they pulled apart, they were both panting heavily. “Sorry,” Ron mumbled, not sorry in the least, “I couldn’t resist.” Looking down at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, he couldn’t imagine ever being happier than he was in that moment. Then she spoke.  
“Neither can I,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his.   
Ron couldn’t keep his face from breaking out into a foolish grin. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly as Hermione tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him in towards her.  
It was a noise, yet again, that brought them back down to reality. The sound of a throat being cleared got their attention – if, indeed, a ghost could be said to have a throat to clear, especially one whose throat had, in fact, been mostly severed.   
They looked up to see Nearly Headless Nick looking down on them with an attempted stern expression on his otherwise congenial face. “Ah, what have we here?” he said, crossing his arms with a somber shake of his partially detached head. If the twinkle in his eye did not give lie to his attempt at discipline, the smile he failed to smother with his transparent hand certainly did. Still, he persisted with a lift of his brow, “I think you had better move along now and return to your dormitories.”   
Hermione turned a bright shade of pink and stammered out an apology to the floor, wishing fervently that it would open up beneath her feet to swallow her whole.   
Ron grinned up at Nearly Headless Nick and, with a nod, said cheerfully, “Yes, sir.” Taking Hermione by the hand, he dragged her mortified form along beside him, marching her down the corridor until they cleared the corner and could no longer be seen.   
“That was awful,” Hermione said when they were out of sight.   
“Nah,” Ron said casually, “could have been worse. Imagine if it had been Professor McGonagall.” The thought of this made him snigger.   
But Hermione’s face immediately went pale, her eyes widening as she exclaimed, “Oh, Ron! Don’t even joke about that. It would be horrible!”   
Somehow, Ron found Hermione’s reaction to be even more amusing. And, as he continued laughing, she crossed her arms and said in her most haughty tone, “It isn’t funny, Ronald. We could get in a lot of trouble, you know.”   
When that didn’t stop him she added, “We’re prefects! We’re supposed to be setting an example.”   
Ron was now doubled over with laughter. He knew it would only make Hermione angrier but he just couldn’t help it.   
Hermione sighed in exasperation, turned on her heel and began striding purposefully down the hallway.   
“Wait,” Ron said, gasping for air. Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, he straightened up, taking a deep breath. “Wait, Hermione!” he called, louder this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks for reading!

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“Wait,” Ron said, gasping for air. Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, he straightened up, taking a deep breath. “Wait, Hermione!” he called, louder this time.

Hermione neither paused nor slowed down. However, Ron had the advantage over her as his legs were nearly twice as long as hers. Even with her head start, he overtook her in no time.

“Hey,” he said as he caught up to her.

She didn’t acknowledge him at all, head held high as she continued marching along the corridor.

He contemplated his options as he matched his stride to hers. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he snuck a glance at her face, taking in the furrowed brow and the firm set of her lips. Better give her time to cool off, he thought.

For some minutes, their walk was a silent one. Then Ron began to whistle.

It began as a low tune, Ron scarcely even noticing he was doing it. But then the tune picked up in tempo as well as in volume. Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer.

She halted suddenly and turned on him. Startled, he stopped walking also, turning to her as she snapped, “Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, honestly confused. He wondered if she was still upset about him laughing earlier.

She huffed, crossing her arms as she glared up at him. Her hair was getting dangerously frizzy. He swore he could see tiny bolts of lightning zapping out from the ends of her wild curls.

He swallowed, waiting for the explosion he was sure would come at any moment. Scratching at the back of his neck, he suddenly found it hard to meet her eyes. They had that fiery look they sometimes got when Ron knew he was really in trouble with her.

When the explosion did finally come, it nearly knocked him off his feet. Mostly because he wasn’t expecting it. What he was expecting was for Hermione to start yelling. What took him off guard was when she instead threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her mouth pressing eagerly to his.

I could get used to this Angry Hermione, was his last coherent thought as he enthusiastically returned the embrace, lifting her feet off the ground as he pulled her closer.

After a moment, she broke away, releasing her arms from around his neck. She pushed at his chest, gasping, as he gently dropped her back onto her feet. For a second, she looked as though she still wanted to tell him off. Then she surprised him again by bursting into laughter.

Ron, still recovering from the previous assault, was momentarily stunned. Then, quite involuntarily, he felt his face stretching into a wide smile and the laughter rising up through him, as though she was pulling it out of him by magic.

When their laughter subsided, Hermione looked up at him with a strange gleam in her eye. He thought she wanted to tell him something. “What is it?” he asked, curious.

She shook her head slowly. “Nothing.” But the look remained.

Ron waited, but she didn’t elaborate. Finally, he just shrugged. Some things were unfathomable. Taking her hand, he led them back through the halls and stairways of the castle, heading back towards the Gryffindor tower.

The whole time they were walking, Ron tried to get his thoughts straight. He knew he should say something to her about what had just happened between them. She would expect him to, he was sure. But he couldn’t seem to find the right words. 

_Listen, Hermione,_ he began in his mind, _about that kiss._ No, that didn’t sound right. It was more than just one kiss, anyway. But, he couldn’t very well say, _Listen, Hermione, about those three very hot snogging sessions we just had._

He tried again. _So, Hermione, does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?_ He made a face. That was even worse.

Maybe he should lead with a joke. Erm –

“Ron?”

He was startled to find that she was still beside him, her small hand still clutched in his much larger one, fingers entwined. “Er, yeah?” he asked stupidly.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. After a moment, he realized he should say something more than this. “Erm, sorry,” he added.

“What are you thinking about?” she persisted.

He looked down into her bright, eager eyes, then let his gaze roam down to her full lips. _Your mouth,_ he almost said, but caught himself in time.

“Teeth,” he offered up instead, then immediately cursed himself. What was he on about?

She looked as bewildered as he felt, and a little disappointed. “Oh,” was all she said.

A slightly awkward silence followed.

They were nearing the Gryffindor common room now. Ron could see the portrait of the Fat Lady at the end of the hall. Hermione slowed her steps, then stopped. Ron felt a tug on his hand and stopped also, looking down at her questioningly.

“Ron,” she said, looking suddenly nervous.

Oh, god, he thought. She’s going to tell me this was all a mistake.

“I, erm—well,” she stammered.

Ron ceased breathing, his heart frozen in his chest as he waited for her next words.

“I had a really good time tonight,” she finally blurted.

Surprise, then elation, filled his entire being. His heartbeat returned with a start, and he suddenly felt lighter than air. Ron felt like he did when he was soaring through the sky, high up in the air on his broomstick. Only this feeling was a thousand times better. If she had told him she loved him, he didn’t think he could feel any happier.

Well, maybe a little.

Ron could feel the goofy smile plastered all over his face. He must look like such an idiot right now. He realized also that he hadn’t responded.

“I had,” he began, his voice breaking. He paused, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I had a really good time tonight, too, Hermione,” he said, in the deepest tone he could manage.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree and Ron was sure he had never seen anything as beautiful. He wanted to kiss her, but somehow, even after all the snogging they had just done, he felt unaccountably shy all of a sudden.

He leaned in, slightly awkwardly, and pressed his lips to her cheek. Her blush deepened, but before he could completely pull away, she turned her face to his and softly brushed his mouth with hers.

Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a few moments. Her eyes were warm and bright, and she was regarding him as though his face was her favorite thing to look at. He didn’t know how he looked in that moment, but he hoped she could read in his eyes all of the things he couldn’t find words to say.

Then, the moment passed, and they continued into the common room, giving the password to the Fat Lady and stepping in through the portrait hole.

There were a few students strewn about on couches and chairs around the fire. Some of them teased when they saw their joined hands, throwing comments at the two of them.

“So, Granger and Weasley are a couple now.”

“I see you two have had an interesting evening.”

“Weasley finally closed the deal, eh?”

Ron could feel his ears burning. Embarrassment mingled with pride as Hermione only grasped his hand more firmly, lifting her chin in haughty defiance without giving the other students a second glance.

Ron followed as she walked towards the girls’ dormitory, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Goodnight, Ron,” she said softly, lifting herself onto her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

The room erupted in catcalls and whistles. Hermione ignored them all and retreated to her dorm room.

Ron grinned, his whole face on fire now, and shortly after escaped to his own room. He settled into the privacy of his four-poster bed, the curtains drawn around him, he breathed a sigh. This was the best night of his life, he thought, playing the events of the last few hours over in his mind. Hermione’s face lingered in his mind’s eye, the last thing he saw as he drifted off to sleep.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments below :)


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